


silent i go under but i am not afraid

by paintedpolarbear



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedpolarbear/pseuds/paintedpolarbear
Summary: in 1943, steve rogers was declared missing in action.





	

_Crack._

The sudden jolt and noise like cannon fire jerked him back to consciousness. Sparks sprayed from the trashed control panel brighter than Independence Day, and the main window showed a hazy view of the field of ice on which he’d come to a surprise landing. The main window was also tilted at an angle to the clear sky, overlaid with topographical information, and flashing various warnings:

_“Hull Integrity Compromised.”_

_“Engine Temperature Critical. Shutdown Imminent.”_

_“Warning: Landing Gear Disabled.”_

Not, Steve thought dryly, that he needed the landing gear now.

He sat up and took stock of his options. Main exit - buried under a quarter ton of wreckage. Emergency hatch - appeared to have never been installed. Hole in the floor - too small, and letting in seawater at a rate too rapid to make it the only breach in the hull. In short, he had no way out.

He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

_Crack._

The plane rocked again, tipping forward and shifting the sky out of view. Steve fell forward against the broken controls, which pressed against his ribs, hard. Grunting, he tried to shove himself back into the seat, and -

_Crack._

\- ended up on the floor, nearly on top of a particularly sharp-looking piece of what was left of the steering yoke.

He lay there, staring in numb disbelief at the twisted metal that sat almost innocently just in focus, mere inches from his face. His limbs were leaden and cold, shaking with the rush of adrenaline as the realization of his own near-death gradually spread throughout his body. The slow, steady pounding of the ocean, now above his head, pulsed in direct contrast to the wild racing of his own heart.

Steve gulped down a few breaths which didn’t do anything for his heart rate, and did his best to clamber up off the floor, which was now tilted at a forty-five degree angle. The water had stopped coming in, at least.

_Crack._

The plane slid another few dozen feet into the water. Now crouched on the floor behind pilot’s chair, Steve wasn’t in danger of falling onto the deadly twisted metal on the other side, but he still clutched the battle-scarred compass a little tighter, cradling it in his lap. The cold brass pinched his fingers but he barely noticed. For the first time in what felt like years, he was able to let his mind wander a little through things of lower priority than which way to aim his gun. He had time, now, to think about everybody back home who wouldn’t be getting their houses knocked down around them, about the kids on the street reading Captain America comic books and thinking the future wouldn’t be so bad after all, about the Allied troops who had room now to move into Europe and clean up the mess. He had time, now, even if only a little while, and it calmed and terrified him.

He flipped the compass open and stared at the photograph he’d carefully taped inside the lid, running a gentle thumb along the torn edge of the paper.

The main window was dark, now, the front of the plane completely buried. What little light shone into the cockpit was filtered through ice dozens of feet thick, casting deep blue shadows that undulated in time with the roaring of the ocean. The damp floor glittered in the dim light.

Steve closed his eyes, trying to shut out the room that was growing darker and smaller. His mind raced to the mountains, the train in the Alps - God, _Bucky_ \- to the hidden HYDRA base and the car on the runway. There were so many he’d left behind - so many comrades and fellow soldiers, and he’d never gotten to say goodbye.

_“Don’t win the war till I get there!”_

_I’m sorry, Buck. I’m so sorry._

The warm air whispering through the vents wasn’t warm anymore and the temperature had already fallen far enough that his breath was visible in the air. It was quiet, too; the engine must have finally died. The absolute stillness pressed against him like a blackout curtain on his mouth. Sooner or later he’d freeze solid, if he didn’t run out of air first. He was almost ashamed to hope it would be sooner.

Steve curled his arms around his knees, shivering. Peggy’s photograph smiled at him from where the compass lay open in his lap. It was the best he’d been able to find of her smile; the gentle quirk of her lips, uncommon in reality, was practically nonexistent in print. The memory of her kiss, all comfort and softness, was still burned into his own lips.

 _Crack_.

One by one the lights in the cabin blinked off: the ambient cockpit lights installed for decoration, the spotlights near what used to be the control panel, and finally the red warnings on the dark and crackled glass, all faded to a claustrophobic shade of blue.

_I’m being buried alive._

The thought choked the breath out of him, but there was nothing left to do but wait, and wait quietly. He tried not to think of the footnote in the history books: Captain America, the soldier fallen at last.

Steve shut and pocketed the compass and laid himself out on the floor as the air grew even colder. He closed his eyes, and he breathed quietly, hoping and fearing each breath would be his last.

_Wait up for me, Buck. I’m coming._

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to tumblr on April 20th, 2014


End file.
